The Hunted Princess

Chapter2

“Not the face, remember Marge,” Alber called from his corner. Vera had her eyes closed to brace for impact, but peeked past one lid when the expected blow never came. Marge had lowered her meaty hand, but was looking at her with a sneer.

“Right, completely forgot, she’s not mine to discipline anymore. Good for her, ‘cuz I’m ready to take her hide!” The last words were said with a snarl, making Vera cower further away. She caught a glimpse of the kids huddled in one corner. While they knew to stay out of their mother’s way, some where looking at her with wicked grins, while others looked disappointed that they would not be entertained with a show today.

“Put away all the things you didn’t steal. Lord knows how we’ll make it now you’ve stuffed yer fat gob, but we’ll make due.” Marge kicked over the nearest item to her and stomped away. “And make two more servings for dinner when yer done. We’re expectin’ important company,”

Vera didn’t bother to worry while she hurried to carry out her orders. “Important company” usually meant a friend of Alber’s who was coming over for a “get rich quick gamble” that would never pan out. She even grew a bit excited, sometimes they were so enthusiastic they wouldn’t finish the meal before Alber dragged them away. On those nights Marge was so expectant that she would be a rich lady soon she would allow Vera the leftovers, stating she “wouldn’t have to eat such slop anymore, so it was better fed to Vera,”.

It wasn’t until things had settled down and she was stirring the pot of stew that she realized that none of those visitors had ever cared about her getting hit in the face before. Some had laughed if it happened in their presence. And…she wasn’t Marge’s to discipline anymore?

Vera felt a familiar dread starting in her stomach, but stronger than she’d felt in years. Suddenly she wasn’t so thrilled for this new visitor to arrive, especially when Marge started fretting over her kids and cleaning them up a bit herself. She ran rags over every inch of exposed skin roughly and tugged on their clothes while muttering that they were too small, but promised to get them better ones soon.

Meanwhile, Alber sat in the corner, near the one window and smoked his pipe while gazing outside, sometimes smiling and nodding to himself, like a man who had accomplished something great. Eventually his corner was so full of smoke Vera couldn’t even see him.

Under Marge’s careful (and threatening supervision) Vera pulled an old table from one corner of the room. One of the legs was almost cracked in half and the thing was barely bigger than a seat, but Marge placed two stools on either side of it, with a rag on top like a tablecloth at the pub. She brought over a candle to set in the center just as three loud knocks came at the door.

“They’re here!” Marge clapped her hands and shooed the kids to one corner of the room where a group of thin mats served as beds. “You be good now, and only speak when spoken to. If you’re good, I’ll get you treats tomorrow,” she bribed before hurrying to the door. Vera frowned since she was usually the one that had to let in guests, and she noticed that Alber had put his pipe away and was pulling his comically large clothes straighter on his narrow body.

“An honor, m’lord Aberon! An honor indeed, please come in and have some stew to warm yer bones.” Alber suddenly appeared by Marge’s side like a ghost that had sailed in the air to reach her.

“Aye, m’lord, please ‘ave a seat. Vera! Serve the lord and his valet, our ‘onored guests,”Alber motioned his guests in with a flamboyant, to the point of cartoonish, bow. Vera turned quickly to pour out two bowls, but nearly dropped them when she faced the strangers again.

There, in the center of the room, hunched over slightly because his head easily surpassed the ceilings height, was the largest man she’d ever seen! He was taller than the whole hut, and almost as wide. No wonder she hadn’t heard him, he probably only had to take one step before he was across the room! He had wavy, dirty blond hair that cascaded past his shoulders, and partially hid his face in shadow, but not enough that Vera couldn’t see the dark glint to his eyes.

Beside him, a much smaller, black haired man sneered at his surroundings. His hair was greasy , but almost as long as the giants. He wore an all-black cloak that smothered his form, but it looked as greasy as his hair, and Vera got the impression that touching him would be like touching oil.

Vera didn’t realize she had frozen until a sharp cough from Marge reminded her. She quickly set the bowls down on the table and went to pour out more for the rest of the family while subconsciously keeping her head lowered enough she wouldn’t meet anyones eyes.

When everyone had a bowl she stood in the corner while everyone tasted their meal. Greasy-man sat, but Lord Aberon didn’t bother trying, the stool would obviously collapse under him. Instead he lifted the bowl set for him to his lips and took a sip that ended up emptying the whole thing. With a grunt he set it back down and turned to Vera.

“Good,” his voice was deep enough to be heard without him raising it at all. Vera bowed slightly at the compliment, but froze when he took another step and was right in front of her. A large finger was all it took for him to forcefully pull her face back up to an uncomfortable position so he could look down on it.

With just his finger he was able to force Vera’s face back and forth, observing every feature of her face with a steady frown on his. When he seemed satisfied his hand moved down to her hip, where he gave her a sharp squeeze. The quick pain made Vera gasp, but she kept her eyes down, trying not to focus on his wandering hands and internally screaming for someone to help her.

“Very good. The last few girls tried to run, but Lord Aberon caught them immediately. Unfortunately they didn’t survive long enough to learn their lesson after that, only regret their decision.” Greasy-man sighed from somewhere behind the lord. Vera faintly heard the sound of coins jingling before the sound of a money bag hitting the table sounded like a funeral toll in her ears. A horrible thought popped into her head of what might be happening.

“We’ll pick her up in the morning, so you can say your good-byes tonight.” Greasy-man continued.

Vera would never know what came over her after hearing such an obvious threat. If her mind hadn’t gone into a haze and she could think clearly she would have known better, but before she realized what she was doing, she took a sharp step back from Lord Aberon and knocked his hand away from where he was tracing it along the side of her chest, inching closer to her breast.

The result was instant, but it took a few moments before Vera understood what had happened. One moment she was standing next to the kitchen area, facing a large man, the next she was on the other side of the room, lying on her side with her head at an odd angle. For a moment she didn’t even think she was awake until a ringing sound grew in her ears.

There were muffled voices behind her and she could feel the floor shaking for a moment, before a loud “bang” seemed to bring her fuzzy brain back to work. She looked around in a daze. The kids were still huddled in one corner, some looking at her with horror, but others with something like awe. Marge and Alber were huddled over the table, pulling coins out of a bag and piling them while speaking rapidly.

No one said anything to her, and the last few moments started to drift back like a fog that she didn’t even want to remember. Tears sprang to her eyes as the pain from being slapped into a wall made every part of her head feel bruised and broken. As she looked at Marge and Alber, chattering gleefully together, and the kids who never offered a word of consolation or support, the dam broke and tears she had thought dried up years ago fell as she choked on a sob.

“Shut up, stupid girl, you should be happy, tomorrow you’re going to live with a Lord. And if you survive long enough and bare him enough kids, he might even marry you someday,” Marge finally turned to Vera, but her eyes stayed on the piles on gold on the table. “Go get cleaned up, he’ll not want to see a busted face in the morning,”

With no one saying anything else to her, Vera hobbled outside to a water barrel and used a corner of her skirt to tenderly wipe away some blood that was trickling from her temple. As sounds of the kids and Marge laughing inside reached her, Vera couldn’t hold on anymore. She curled up next the barrel and allowed the tears to stream down her cheeks until she couldn’t breathe.

“Please, help me,” She whispered into the darkness. She knew no one was listening, and there was no one on this earth who would possibly want to help her. Her only help could come from the stars, as they shimmered and danced above her silently, and with no response to her plea.

Unbeknown to her, someone was listening that night. He stood in the shadow just around the corner from where she was curled by a barrel, listening to everything that had happened now and earlier with a constant sneer on his lips. At her whispered prayer, he crossed his arms and sunk further into the shadows…waiting for his opportunity to “help”.